Paid In Full
by Bookworm10
Summary: Serenity answers a distress signal and Mal's temper flares. Many references to Heart of Gold and minor ones to Trash. Reviews most welcome!
1. No Payment Necessary

Disclaimer: The Firefly 'verse is the property of Joss Whedon and the good people at Mutant Enemy, 20th Century Fox, and now Paramount. Thanks, folks. Keep flying.

**Paid in Full**

By Bookworm

**Chapter 1: No Payment Necessary**

In the dead of ship's night, Malcolm Reynolds walked through _Serenity_. He trod silently past the crew's quarters, past the closed hatches and his sleeping charges, and through the dining area. There, he turned into the hatch to the stairs leading below. He wound his way down to the passenger lounge, past the doors where the Tams and the preacher slumbered, lightly touching each door with his fingertips as he passed.

In the cargo bay, he paused to look upwards at the shuttle where Inara lay. Then he turned away and followed the polluted stream that was the only source of water on this side of the valley. It led him past steaming husks of transport shuttles and gun nests, past bloated bodies covered with buzzing flies and squirming rats. His face was stern, his steps sure. The fetid wind blew ashes into his eyes.

To his right, a number of bodies had been laid out in a line. Thirty-three figures in brown coats: his platoon. He paused briefly to contemplate each face, each set of unseeing eyes, to recite their names silently. Bobby Remington. Mariah Johnson. Sylvie Dayton—she had had no face at the end, but on these visits she was restored enough to stare reproachfully at the reeking sky. Ben Rogers.

He worked his way down the entire line: thirty-three soldiers who had looked to him. Beyond them crows swooped over the heaped bodies of another eighteen hundred or more, most of them nameless, none of them forgotten. He had failed them all.

To the left, in a spot of honor, lay the fresher corpses. A young private stared at Mal with naïve incomprehension. Beside him, a dark-haired woman in a red and gold dress reposed gracefully, as if asleep, save for the crimson stain over her heart.

Beyond them lay another body in a tattered jumpsuit, brown hair fallen across its face. He crouched and rolled it onto its back, brushed the hair aside.

Kaylee. The suit was ripped open past her hips, the bruises on her breasts livid against the cold white flesh. Her belly oozed blood.

"She doesn't belong here," a voice beside him chided. "You're torturing yourself with might-have-beens."

"I need to remind myself about what almost happened, what could happen if I let my guard down." He let his gaze drift over the hellish landscape. "There are already enough dead in the valley."

"You torture yourself with the past, too."

He shrugged. "I remember. I owe them that much." He turned his head and looked at River. She was naked. "You don't belong here, either. Did you come for a reason, or are you just sightseeing?"

"There's a distress call."

"The alarm'll wake Wash."

"People could die."

Mal's eyes strayed back along the line of bodies. "That's what people do," he said.

"Kaylee could save them."

He continued to stare down at the corpses, at a fly crawling across an open eye.

"These are past saving, Captain," River whispered. She stepped up next to him and touched his cheek.

Her fingers were searing cold. He gasped raggedly and stumbled away from her. He was falling. He jerked in an effort to catch himself—and knocked his hand painfully against the wall beside his narrow bunk. With a groan, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat up, scrubbing at his face. 

"Getting rutting hard to find any solitude on this ship," he muttered.

The climb up the ladder from his bunk shook off any remaining sleep: his right ankle was still painful from a mishap a couple of weeks earlier and the climb was particularly awkward. Cursing softly, he limped to the bridge.

Wash and Zoë were already there. Zoë stood back and watched her husband flip switches on the panel.

"Distress signal?" Mal asked as he entered.

"Yeah," the pilot replied without looking up. "I'm just playing it." His hand paused over the switch and he looked at Mal. "How'd you know? Mind reading isn't contagious, is it?"

Mal shrugged. "Just play it."

A female voice spoke. "This is Captain Rebecca Masters of Mantis Class _Edinburgh_ requesting immediate assistance. Our engines and life support are down. Please respond. This is—" 

Wash flicked it off. "Not much of a message. Should we respond?"

"It could be a trap, Captain," Zoë warned.

"And it could be the real thing," Mal sighed. "Let's check it out. Give the lady a call, Wash."

Wash spoke into the comm panel in his smooth radio voice. "Mantis Class _Edinburgh_, this is Firefly Class _Serenity_ responding to your call. Do you read?" He paused, waiting for a reply. "Mantis Class _Edinburgh_, this is Firefly Class _Serenity_—"

"_Serenity_, this is _Edinburgh_. It's good to hear you! Can you assist?" A visual of a slender woman with graying red hair appeared on the vid panel.

Wash cleared out to let Mal in. "This is Captain Malcolm Reynolds. Might be we can. What do you need?"

"A competent engineer, mostly. Ours got his arm caught in the works—something of a mess."

"An engineer I've got, and a doctor if your man needs one."

"He's beyond one—just the engineer'll do."

"We'll dock with you and send a party aboard."

"We'll be waiting. Bless you, lad!"

Mal signed off. He looked at Zoë. "Wake Kaylee and Jayne. You, Jayne and I'll check it out first."

"What about the others, sir?"

"I'll go warn them all right now. No need for them to meet any more of our people than necessary."

Mal gave Kaylee a stern look as the airlock opened. She nodded, signaling that she would wait there until called for, as he had instructed. His right hand was near his gun as he strode through, flanked by Zoë and Jayne. He entered a cargo bay with several very large shipping containers. Before him stood Captain Masters—now revealed to be of medium height—flanked by a tall, gangly man with dark hair and a scar across his nose and a short, stubby fellow with a blond beard. The air was cold and decidedly rank. Mal and Zoë both stiffened and their eyes met briefly.

"_Yēsū_—what a stink," Jayne griped.

"Welcome aboard, Captain Reynolds," Masters greeted them. "Again, I'm grateful for the assistance."

Mal nodded curtly. "What's your cargo, captain?" he demanded.

Masters smiled and crossed her arms across her chest. "From your tone, I imagine you've already surmised it. We're carrying indentured workers bound for the mines on Midgard. Some people don't approve, but it's legal cargo."

Mal's nostrils flared. He walked around the corner of the nearest container and peered in through the grate on that side. He saw ten miserable souls huddled together for warmth. One boy looked up, his empty gray eyes meeting Mal's. The captain held the gaze for several long seconds before turning his head away.

"Show us your engine room," he ordered. "My engineer is just outside. We won't know if we can help you until she's had a look."

Masters grinned. "This way, lad."

The air in the engine room was heavy with the coppery tang of fresh blood. A half-hearted attempt had been made at cleaning the mess up off the walls and floor, but quite a lot of blood remained in the engine itself. Kaylee gulped and Mal swore long and hard.

"S'okay, Cap'n," Kaylee assured him bravely. "I'll just pretend it's yours, like after you replaced the catalyzer. That was a hell of a mess."

Mal hugged her to him with one arm and planted a kiss on the top of her head. "I . . . uh . . . I never really thought about that, little girl. Sorry you had to clean that up."

She shrugged his concern away and then turned a critical eye on the engine. She walked all around it, peering at each component from various angles. At one point she pulled a rag from her hip pocket and wiped blood away with as little concern as if it had been engine grease. Finally she stepped back and wiped her hands on her jumpsuit, smiling. "'Bout twenty minutes to get the life-support back, and a few hours to get the engines runnin'. Nothin's really broke—just kinda gummed up or disconnected."

Masters grinned. "That's a good girl you've got there, lad," she said.

Mal ignored her. "Kaylee, I'm gonna hold you to that schedule. You get this fixed as fast as you can. We'll be right here if you need anything."

Zoë broke in. "Sir—I think you should head back to _Serenity_. The others'll want to hear from you what's going on." Her tone was mild, but when Mal glanced at her face her gaze was steady, telling him not to push back. 

He clenched his teeth. "Jayne—you stay here with her, _dong ma_?"

Jayne frowned and nodded. "I'll look after her, Mal."

Book sat patiently on the steps in _Serenity_'s cargo bay as Inara paced. She was looking particularly beguiling in a clingy silk robe and he couldn't help reciting the "Song of Solomon" to himself. At times like this, his presence on this ship seemed cosmically ridiculous. 

They heard the thrum of footsteps coming back through the gangway, the pounding beat of a captain in a temper. The companion cast a nervous glance at Book and prudently backed away from the entrance.

"_Wúnéug de rén_," Mal cursed as he burst in with Zoë right behind. "Zoë, go tell Wash to keep an eye on all monitors. We're easy pickings sitting so still out here. Then get back down here and stand guard on this hatch—I don't want any uninvited guests." Zoë nodded and headed for the bridge.

Inara touched Mal's hand lightly to get his attention. "What's so wrong over there?" she asked.

"It's a gorram slaver!" Mal spat. "I don't much like the idea of helping them out—but if we don't, all aboard will freeze or suffocate, and the slaves'll go first."

Inara clutched the captain's arm. "And you left Kaylee over there?"

He shook off her hold. "Jayne's with her, under strict orders to keep her safe and get her out of there as quick as he can."

"You should've stayed, too. You're the one she feels safe with."

"Meant to, but Zoë wouldn't let me. She figured there'd be an incident if I stayed—and she was likely right." He turned his back on her to go, but the shepherd stepped smoothly into his path.

"Captain, if you don't mind, I'd like to go to the other ship and tend to the slaves. They could probably use a little comfort and prayer right now."

Mal's lips pressed together in a grim line. "Right now they are likely praying for heat and air, and Kaylee is the answer to those prayers. Can't imagine any greater waste of time than talkin' of God to them that he's forsaken, but if you feel the need, you go right ahead."

"Thank you, Captain," Book murmured as Mal strode past him. He gazed after the retreating figure for a long moment, his look thoughtful.

Becca Masters leaned in the hatchway of the _Edinburgh's_ engine room and watched Kaylee as she worked. Her calculating look was making Jayne edgy.

"You know," he coughed, "Kaylee'd work faster if you didn't stand there watchin' her."

Masters looked at Jayne from the corner of her eyes. "She's forgotten anybody's here but that engine. The girl surely knows her work." She turned and looked at him straight on. "Is everybody on your ship so competent?"

Jayne shrugged. "Pretty much. Mal always finds the best."

"He and the girl seem pretty close. They a couple?"

"Mal and Kaylee? Hell, no. She's more like a little sister to him, to all of us. Best way to get on Mal's bad side is to do anything that hurts Kaylee."

"Your captain's a bit of a self-righteous _chǔnrén,_ isn't he?"

Jayne laughed uncomfortably and glanced uneasily at Kaylee. She was straining to get a part loose and seemed oblivious to their conversation. "Yeah, sometimes. But he's straight up. It's kinduva change to work for someone I can trust, you know?"

"I can imagine." She eyed Jayne speculatively. "So, can he trust you?"

Jayne met her eyes briefly and then looked away. "He and I are working on that part."

Mal tapped twice on Simon's door and then walked in. Simon and River were sitting on the bed, a deck of cards dealt between them. "We should be heading out again in a few hours," he informed them.

"Do any of them need medical attention?" Simon asked.

Mal shook his head. "Not badly, and I'd just as soon you kept out of sight. The ship's carrying slaves, and any captain who'd do that is somebody I want to keep at arm's length. I've got Zoë keeping anybody from boarding, though—it should be safe enough for you to move about, as long as you stay clear of the cargo bay."

Simon stood up and yawned. "Excellent. I could use coffee. Want anything, River?"

She shook her head. "In the cold weather, a hand needs a glove."

"That's a no, then," Simon remarked with a shake of his head. He walked past Mal on his way up to the mess. 

Mal hung back a moment and leaned close to River. "Why naked?" he asked in a low voice.

She favored him with a sly smile. "It was _your_ dream, Captain."

The confounded look he gave her made her burst out laughing.

Almost three hours had passed when Wash summoned Mal to the bridge to answer a call from Masters.

"Your Kaylee is nearly finished, lad. I'd like to come aboard briefly and pay you for your trouble in helping us," Masters offered.

Mal smiled. "We didn't do this for pay, Captain. Just send Jayne and Kaylee back when they're done and we'll call it quits."

"That doesn't seem right. Please, let me show my gratitude and give you something, at least."

"Really, just send my people back," Mal repeated in a friendly tone.

Masters narrowed her eyes. "Hold on. I've seen enough of your ship, boy, to know that you could use any money you can get. Problem is, you don't think my money is good enough for you—isn't it?"

Mal dropped his friendly façade and became stern. "No offense meant, but I don't want any part of any money that comes from slavin'. I've got no problem with helping you get on your way, but that's where it ends."

"Don't be a fool. Out here in the Black, you take money where it's offered if you want to survive."

Mal flicked the vid unit off. A stony silence filled the bridge while Wash blinked at the captain.

"Well, I can see why Zoë has followed you for so long. Your ability to handle any situation with tact and foresight is awe-inspiring," Wash finally ventured. "C'mon, Mal, she has a point. We take money from Badger, and we know he deals in slaves. What's the difference?"

Mal turned cold eyes on him. "Badger pays us out of what he expects to get for what we bring him. The money comes from our own work, not from the slaving. We haven't given Masters anything that she'll make profit from—_that's_ the difference."

"That's a fine line, Mal."

"'Course it is. All the more reason not to cross it. And I don't ever mean to." 

Ten minutes later, Wash watched as the _Edinburgh_ cast off _Serenity'_s airlock and departed without a word. He didn't give it much thought until Mal's frantic voice came over the intercom.

"Wash? Did they just leave?"

"Yeah, Mal."

"_Tāmāde. _Kaylee and Jayne are still aboard."

Kaylee picked up her tool bag and followed Jayne out of the engine room. They had made it almost halfway down to _Edinburgh's_ cargo bay when she felt a shiver run through the ship. She grabbed hold of Jayne's arm.

He stopped short and looked over his shoulder at her. " _Gòu zāo de_. We're movin', ain't we?"

She nodded.

He pulled out his gun and turned back the way they had come. "Stay behind me. We're headin' back to the engine room and you're gonna stop this gorram ship."

At the hatchway emptying into the engine room corridor, Jayne stole a quick look out and saw two armed crewmembers between him and their goal. He ducked back and looked at the girl. "We're humped. They've got the room covered."

"What're we gonna do?" she hissed. "You can't fight the whole crew."

"There's no need to fight at all," Becca Masters called to them. 

Jayne looked back down the hallway they had just come back through, but couldn't see her. "You wanna tell us what kinda gorram game you're playin'?" he called.

"It's called _Get the Captain's Goat_," she replied with a laugh. "Young Malcolm is just a little too sanctimonious and I mean to teach him some manners. I promise you, we don't mean any harm to either of you. You're our guests until we reach Midgard."

"_Fèi huà_," Jayne spat. He pushed Kaylee into the corner behind him and raised his gun.

She clutched his gun arm and pulled it down with all her strength. "Jayne," she pleaded. "This can't work. If we have a shootout, you'll just wind up dead and I'll be stuck here without you. How does that help?"

He turned his head and looked at her with wild eyes.

"Don't leave me here alone, Jayne," she whispered.

Slowly, she felt the fight go out of him. He put his gun arm around her and hugged her against his side. "How the ruttin' hell am I going to explain this to Mal?" he asked. "I promised him I'd take care of you."

"Can't do it if you're dead," she observed with a whimsical smile. "'Sides, sounds like the Captain is the one got us into this mess."

He laughed hoarsely. "For somebody who's always givin' me lessons in manners, he sure has a gift for pissin' people off."

"That's our Cap'n," she agreed. Then she grinned. "Don't worry—I'll handle him."

Jayne's lip stretched in an answering smile: the girl had the captain wrapped around her finger. "Okay," he said, "I don't trust Becca—leastwise not like I do Mal—but she don't seem like a cold-blooded killer. I think we're safe enough for now." He holstered his gun and took Kaylee's hand in his. She squeezed his back.

Mal burst into Simon's quarters, grabbed River by an arm and pulled her around to face him. He looked into vacant eyes.

And then he saw stars and bounced off the wall before slumping to the floor. He shook his head and looked up to see Simon glaring down at him. The doctor's fist was clenched and ready for another blow should the captain dare to stand up.

Mal put his hands up in surrender. "Stand down, Doctor. I was too rough, an' I apologize. I'm feelin' a mite frantic right now."

The sincerity in the captain's tone was unmistakable. Simon lowered his fist. "What's wrong?"

"Kaylee musta worked her magic. The other ship took off, but Kaylee and Jayne are still aboard."

Simon wrestled with the implications. "And . . . you blame River?"

Mal rubbed his jaw. "No. 'Course not. But she, she listens. I woulda thought she'd know this was gonna happen."

"That's crazy," Simon objected.

"Well, that's your sister," Mal retorted. "Look, I just need to talk to her. Can I get up now, or are you feeling a need to create demand for your surgical prowess?"

"Uh . . . of course. Just, you know, don't get grabby."

Mal pushed himself up off the floor and knelt by River. Her gaze was unfocused. "How long she been like this?" he asked.

"Just a few minutes, I think. I didn't really notice when she drifted off—we were playing cards and I was waiting for her to discard, and finally I got tired of waiting and looked up, and she was . . . gone."

Mal cupped her face in his hands. "River, darlin', can you hear Kaylee?"

"Lonesome nights in a cowboy bed," she announced.

Mal flicked a nervous glance towards Simon. The doctor's eyes were on his sister. The captain tried again. "C'mon, River. I know you're ranging for Kaylee. Whaddya hear, sweetheart?"

Simon rummaged in his medical bag for a vial and prepared a shot. He stepped up to River and started to push her sleeve up.

Mal realized what he was up to and shoved him aside with his shoulder. The doctor fell across the foot of the bed, rolled and landed on the floor. He bounced up mad.

"Damn it, Mal! She's having an episode and I need to medicate her."

Mal placed himself between the doctor and River and shook his head once side to side. "An episode? This ain't a random episode, Doctor. She's reaching to Kaylee, and I need to know what she's learned. We're following, but that don't help Kaylee a whole lot right now. Seein' as how you and Kaylee've gotten snuggly in the past, I'd've thought you'd give a rat's ass."

Simon stood there for a moment with his mouth open and the syringe poised in his hand. Finally he managed to get words out. "Of course I care. But I can't do anything for Kaylee right now—that's your job. My responsibility is to look after River, and I can't stand to see her like this."

"So you'll just shoot her full of drugs so she goes to sleep and you can feel better?" Mal asked bitterly.

"No. So _she_ feels better."

"Does she? Is unconscious 'better'?"

"Who are you to judge, Mal? I'm her brother and her doctor. I think I know what's best for her." He stepped forward to get to his sister and Mal pushed him back again forcefully.

"Doctor." Mal took a slow breath. "Simon. Don't most doctors avoid treating family?"

Simon glared at the captain for a moment before nodding his head.

"Why is that?"

"Because . . . because doctors have to remain objective about their patients in order to treat them effectively," he muttered. 

Mal didn't say a word; he just set his jaw and gazed at the doctor, forcing him to come to terms with it.

Simon blinked tears away. "I'm doing the best I can," he said quietly.

"I don't doubt that," Mal offered. "Listen—I don't want to hurt River any more than you do. Maybe I've got a different take on what's happenin' with her, and seeing as how I'm riskin' a lot keeping you both on board, I think you owe me the benefit of the doubt on this."

Mal felt a sudden cold sensation at the back of his neck and jumped spasmodically in the air. He spun around to find River grinning at him, her cold fingers outstretched. "_Gāisi_. Don't do that!"

She giggled and placed her hand against his heart. "He deals the cards to find the answers."

Mal pushed the hair off her face with a finger. "Hey. We had a talk about this nonsense."

She looked him right in the eye. "Kaylee's fine. A little nervous, but fine. She's with Jayne."

Mal grabbed her gently by the shoulders. "Shouldn't you have known something like this was up?"

She shook her head. "Captain Masters bears no malice. There's no dread."

"Darlin', you better be right about this."

* * *

_dong ma?_ understand?  
_fèi huà_ bullshit  
_gāisi_ damn  
_gòu zāo de _This can't get any worse.  
_tāmāde_ damn, fuck  
_wúnéug de rén_ trash (despicable person)  
_Yēsū_ Jesus  



	2. Time Is Money

**Chapter 2: Time is Money**

Jayne drifted in that delicious zone between waking and deep sleep. Masters had broken out a bottle of scotch after dinner, and the liquor on top of a very short night's sleep was catching up with him. 

Across the room, he could vaguely hear Kaylee roll over and fluff her pillow for something like the twentieth time. "Hey, Jayne," she called softly, "you awake?"

"Mmm hmm."

"You reckon the Cap'n would be mad if he found out Captain Masters paid me?" Kaylee asked more loudly. 

"Mmm hmm."

"Maybe I shouldn't accept it, then," she agonized.

"Spen' it on th'engines. Tell 'im after Bec's lon' gone," he mumbled.

"Yeah, I guess that's the best way," she agreed. "Hey, Jayne, you figure the Cap'n's awake? I bet he's chewing up the bridge right now."

"Be worry 'bou' you." That delicious place was drifting further away.

"Poor Cap. He'll be dead on his feet by the time we get to Midgard."

"S'own fault. 'Ways doin' s'fool righteous thi' gess us inno tr'ble."

"He just wants to do the right thing, is all. Don't it make you sad to see those slaves? They look so miserable."

"Go 'sleep." _Please, go to sleep_.

"I can't," she whined. Then, after a long pause, "Jayne . . . I'm afraid."

Jayne sighed and pushed himself up on one elbow. "Hey . . . everything's gonna be _hao_. We're getting off in a day or so, and I've still got Ursula. We're safe."

"I know. I guess I just miss everybody, 'fraid I won't see 'em again."

He collapsed back onto his bed. "You'll see 'em."

"Yeah—but I wish I could tell the Captain that," she said, her voice cracking on a sob.

"Aw, hell," Jayne griped, sitting up again. He was well out of that sleep zone now. "C'mere. Neither one of us is gonna sleep at this rate." He threw his blanket back, making room for her.

Meekly, she crawled out of bed and snuggled against his chest. He lay back down and put his arms around her, patting her awkwardly. "We're gonna get out of here and back to _Serenity_. I promise. And Mal'll be so happy to see you, he'll forget how scared he's feeling right now. C'mon, let's sleep—you don't want to look all red-eyed and pee-kid when he sees you."

She sniffed noisily a few times to clear her nose and then settled down with her back to Jayne. She felt warm and vulnerable, trusting. He put an arm over her protectively and let himself drift back to towards sleep. 

"You don't snore, do you, Jayne?" she giggled.

"Go 'sleep."

Mal sat alone on the bridge, forlornly gazing at the proximity monitor. Wash had set a course to follow _Edinburgh_, and Mal had ordered him back to bed. Now Mal was watching to make sure that the other ship didn't change course suddenly and lose them. He didn't know what else to do. He'd tried hailing _Edinburgh_ several times: he'd apologized for his high-handed attitude and practically begged Captain Masters to speak to him. There had been no reply.

Everybody had assured him that Kaylee and Jayne would be all right, but he could tell that they were trying to convince themselves of that, and that they blamed him. If he hadn't been so rutting superior, Masters would've returned his crew. Wash had made a comment to that effect, and Zoë said it with her silence.

Inara said it with her eyes.

Only River seemed to truly believe it when she said Kaylee would come back unharmed. He wanted to believe her—maybe too much. The girl was crazy, after all.

He leaned on the console and rested his face in his hands. His breath caught raggedly, and he inhaled deeply and slowly, fighting to control his growing sense of helplessness.

The sound of measured footsteps on the stairs behind him made him freeze. He kept his back to the hatch and stared stonily ahead. "I'm not real good company right now," he warned coldly.

"I know," said the shepherd. "I wouldn't be much good at my calling if I let that keep me away."

"You come here to tell me I just have to trust in God and everything will work out all right?" Mal asked scornfully.

"No," Book replied. He stepped past the captain's chair and eased himself into the copilot's seat. "I know better than to try the frontal attack. I thought I'd try a flanking maneuver with a sermon on the evils of shutting out those who care for you."

Mal dropped his eyes to the monitor and gazed at the blip representing _Edinburgh_. "I fucked up, Preacher," he said. "I know it. You know it. _They_ all know it. And now there ain't nothin' to do but follow and wait."

"Mal, we're all scared for Kaylee—and for Jayne. Everybody is gathered round the table, trying to get through the waiting. And we're all worried about you, too. This isn't a time to be alone."

"I ain't alone. I got all these cheery thoughts for company."

"Please, come join us," Book pleaded.

"No call for anybody to be worried 'bout me. Kaylee's the one in trouble. And Jayne."

Book leaned forward and put a hand on Mal's shoulder. "If God is with anybody in this whole 'verse, he's with Kaylee. He'll look after her."

Mal tilted his head and finally looked at the Preacher. "I spent two whole months in the Valley of the Shadow of Death, Shepherd, and God didn't show his face one time. Men prayed and men died, and they rotted where they fell while crows picked their bones—and He didn't care one gorram bit. You'll understand if I don't much count on Him looking out for Kaylee."

"But you still believe in Him, don't you?" Book asked quietly. "Even if you're mad as Hell at Him."

"Do those slaves you so tenderly ministered to believe in Him?" Mal shot back.

"Most of them," Book replied. "They hold out hope for a better time in the afterlife. It's a comfort to them."

"And an excuse for them what own 'em."

"As if they need an excuse. But, do you still believe?"

Mal considered for a moment. "I don't _want_ to believe in Him," he admitted. "It'd be easier to think He just doesn't exist. But then I'd have to hate the ones that taught me to believe in Him—and they all died. I miss them too much to hate them, Shepherd. All I can do is hate Him, instead. It's all I have left."

Book squeezed his shoulder. "Go ahead and hate Him, son. He can bear it."

Mal's eyes strayed back to the monitor. He hunched his shoulders. "I reckon He can. If He can bear all the sufferin' and dyin', then my curses are hardly worth the effort."

"He hears you, Mal. But none of us can understand what he plans for us."

The captain shrugged off Book's hand and turned an angry glare at the Shepherd. "I don't want Him plannin' anything for me, Preacher. I once told you that God ain't welcome on this ship. I know you're thinkin' that when I get desperate enough, I'll turn to Him again. But you can stop thinking that. I'll put my faith in my crew, in Zoë—in Jayne, even. And I'll go on shouldering the blame when I earn it. For now, I'd like to be alone. Don't make me order you off my bridge."

"Very well," Book replied, not the least offended.

Mal didn't look at him as he left.

"What the hell is this?"

Inara looked up from her calligraphy. She had been expecting this intrusion for the past hour, ever since Mal spread the accounts out on the dining table. He had barely slept the night before and was understandably on edge: the timing could not be worse. "It's what we agreed to," she replied calmly.

Mal shook a heavy wad of bills at her. "_This_ is enough for a year's rent and then some."

"It's my rent, plus your fee for defending the Heart of Gold."

Mal's jaw clenched for a moment with suppressed rage. Visibly holding himself in check, he pitched the money onto her bed. "I told you I didn't want to be paid for that job back when I agreed to it."

She set her calligraphy aside and folded her hands in her lap. "And I told you that I wanted to keep this a business relationship. I offered you a job, and you took it."

"No. I offered to help your friend, and _you_ insisted on paying for it." He paused a moment and took a deep breath. "And, seein' how things turned out, I'm thinkin' that payment wasn't earned, anyways."

She stood and moved close to him. "Mal. The entire crew put their lives at sake for those women. Of course the payment was earned."

He took a step back from her. "Inara, I once told Saffron that I was fortunate to have a ship full of people who do for each other. We don't pay each other for jobs—we help each other."

"Be reasonable, Mal. They all came to your rescue when Niska had you. All their money from the Ariel job went to buying Wash's way out—and you haven't had a decent job since. _Serenity_ needs the money."

"I admit things are tight," he retorted. "And if it gets to the point where I don't have the wherewithal to keep the ship flyin', then you can come to me real businesslike and offer me a loan."

He turned and strode out of the shuttle. He paused for a moment at the hatch and said, "You know, these past years, it's not often that I feel the urge to do anything for anybody, no strings attached. I wanted to do something for you, and it felt good to be able to help. But I guess I shouldn't expect a companion to know that favors ain't meant to be paid for."

Inara sat down shakily once he was gone. She was trembling—but whether from anger or dread, she could not say.

The next morning, Mal wove through the townsfolk in the streets of Freya on Midgard. He strained to see over their heads, to catch a glimpse of Jayne towering over the crowd, or of graying red hair.

He raised the comm unit in his left hand. "Any sign, Zoë?"

"None, sir."

"_Tāmāde_. Keep looking."

"That was my intention, sir."

In front of him, the flow of the crowd shifted as people moved to the right, shunning something coming down the street towards them on the left side. He could hear the sound of metal jingling. Mal stood his ground and found himself alone facing a gray line of stumbling slaves, the chains around their waists swaying. They were flanked by four grimy men with clubs. One of them waved his club at Mal, motioning him aside. When Mal didn't move, the man shoved him back. Mal stumbled and looked up angrily, his right hand balled in a fist— and he suddenly froze. In the line of downcast faces, a lone pair of gray eyes stared desolately into his—the boy he'd seen on Masters' ship. 

Mal held the boy's eyes as he passed and watched his thin back disappear down the street. 

The unit in his hand squawked and Zoë's voice came over it. "Sir, I've found Kaylee and Jayne."

He tore his gaze from the retreating figures and looked back up the street and to the right, in the general direction Zoë was supposed to be heading. "Safe?" he asked.

"And sound. They were heading to _Serenity_."

"Where are you?"

"Four blocks east of the market square."

"Stay put. I'll be right there."

He cast one more glance down the street as he rushed off: the slaves and their keepers were lost to sight. 

He saw Jayne first. He raised a hand to get the mercenary's attention and the big man dipped his head in reply. Then Mal's heart lurched as Kaylee's face lit up like the sun at the sight of him. She rushed to him and flung her arms around him with a squeal.

"Cap'n! I missed you!"

He crushed her to him. "I was so worried about you," he muttered in her ear. "I am so sorry, little girl."

"Jayne looked after me," she assured him.

Mal met Jayne's eyes over the girl's head. "I was fair sure he would," he said.

The big man grinned. "Kaylee made it easy. She charmed Masters near the same way she charms you."

"And you're immune?"

Jayne frowned with mock offense. "Hey, I'm as tenderhearted as the next guy."

"Well, c'mon you two. I know a crew that's pretty anxious to see you both." Mal put an arm around Kaylee's shoulders to usher her back towards the ship. She took a few steps and then suddenly stopped.

"Cap'n—I almost forgot. You've got to meet Cap'n Masters. She said she has a job for us."

"We got a job," Mal said sternly, "and we're gonna be late thanks to her."

"She's already waiting for you, Mal," Jayne put in. "Can't hurt to listen to her."

"She abducted you both, an' you still want to work for her?"

"She was nice enough about it. She said she did it to get back at you for turning down her money, but I think she wanted to know more about you. Might be she has something interesting."

Mal looked questioningly at Zoë. She shrugged. "Like Jayne said, sir, it probably won't hurt to talk to her."

"We'll get Kaylee back to _Serenity_ and then the three of us will go," Mal said.

"You're supposed to go alone, Cap'n," Kaylee chirped.

"Hell I will," Mal spat. "I still don't trust the woman."

"I think you're gonna want me to take you there, Mal," Jayne said. "And Zoë could wait outside. She just wants to talk to you alone."

"On her ship? We been through this one already."

"Not her ship—she's got a meeting place worked out."

Mal looked furtively up and down the street before ducking his head and following Jayne through the door of the bordello. The red décor was garish and heavy perfumes blended into a suffocating smorgasbord of scents. A busty woman with heavy thighs in a garter belt and high heels sidled by and eyed him up and down. He looked away hurriedly.

"This woman's got some sense of humor," Mal hissed.

"Don't be a _jiazhèngjing_," Jayne retorted. "She's not the first to think you need to get laid."

"That's it," Mal said, turning and heading for the door.

Jayne threw an arm around his shoulder, turned him back around and headed him across the foyer to the receiving room. "You'll love this," he chortled. "This looks like a cherry spot." He kept a tight hold on his captain as an attractive middle-aged woman in a long full skirt and a low-cut bosom swayed toward them.

"My, my," she cooed. "The girls'll be scratchin' each other's eyes out over you two."

"If you wanna call 'em all down and commence to cat fightin', we'd pay extra," Jayne chortled.

"No—we don't want no fuss made," Mal protested. "Let's just do this quiet like."

"This is my friend's first visit to a ladies' establishment," Jayne ad-libbed, oblivious to the glare Mal was directing at him. "He's gonna need a girl who's good with nervous colts." He followed up with an obvious wink.

"I've got just the one," the madam replied with a warm smile. She stepped back to a curtain at the far end of the room and pushed it aside. "Ginny, I've got a boy in need of gentlin' out here."

A petite blonde in leather pants, a tight vest and a broad-brimmed hat sauntered out. She had a lariat in one hand. She looked from Mal to Jayne with cool interest.

"Just the thing," Jayne commented, pushing Mal forward.

Before he could stop himself, Mal had stumbled within inches of the girl. She craned her head back to look at him and traced his cheek with a long fingernail. "Heigh-o, sweetness," she crooned. She curled her fingers around the lapel of his brown coat and pulled him towards the stairs. He hesitated a moment and she swatted his hip with the bunched rope. He twitched away from her and then blushed to his ears and gave in.

As she led him away, he looked over his shoulder at Jayne and ordered, "Don't be too long."

Jayne grinned. "I'll catch up."

The whore pulled him up two flights of stairs and along a corridor with many doors before stopping at one in a small alcove. She opened the door and stood blocking it. Her arms twined around his neck. "You just go in here and I'll be along shortly." She trailed one hand down his chest and caressed him south of his suspenders before stepping aside and heading further down the hall.

Mal bolted into the room and closed the door.

"I hope you're not planning on disappointing that girl. She seems to truly fancy you."

The captain turned to where Masters was seated on a loveseat against the right wall. "That's the problem with the professionals," he said. "You never can be sure where you stand."

"You do seem the type who likes to seduce them on his own," she laughed.

"As a rule. I'm not against bein' seduced myself from time to time, when I'm sure the interest is genuine. If you lured me here to seduce me, I should warn you that I have a strict policy against relations with them that kidnap my crew."

"You're a pretty package, lad, but my first concern is all business."

"You picked a funny place for doin' business," he noted.

"I wanted someplace where we could meet unobserved. The brothel was Jayne's idea. I gather he's a frequent customer."

Mal grinned wickedly. "Well, now. He's gonna pay for that one. He had entirely too much fun draggin' me in here." He settled into a wing-backed chair to one side of the loveseat. "I gotta tell you, I'm not much in a mind to have dealings with you after the stunt you pulled. I also generally don't do business with them that abduct my crew."

"Then let me start by apologizing for that. I was angry when I did it."

"You had a full thirty hours or more to think better of it."

"True. But then I started thinking that you could help me with this job, and the more I talked with Kaylee and Jayne, the more I knew I was right. So, I kept them with me to make sure you followed me all the way here."

Mal frowned. "Just what did they say?"

"Nothing they shouldn't, I assure you. I offered them both jobs, you know. They turned me down flat."

"You must not've offered Jayne enough money."

"I offered him a great deal, actually. He said it was half again what you pay him. But he said he wasn't just interested in payoff anymore. It seems he's set on earning your trust."

"Well, that's good to hear. I'm set on him earning it, too—if I don't kill him first."

"Your best advocate is Kaylee. That girl can joke with Jayne about all your failings and still keep you high on a pedestal. And she got all teary talking about how worried you'd be."

"We were _all_ worried."

"I'm sure. I'd worry about her, too. But you were the only one she was concerned about."

"Really? I know somebody who wouldn't be too pleased to hear that."

"What do you do to inspire such loyalty?"

"Look out for my crew. And refuse jobs that don't sit well with us."

"Or back out on them? Like for Adelei Niska?"

Mal's eyes met hers warily. "Jayne tell you 'bout that?"

"He didn't have to, lad. Word gets around in our circles. You should be more careful."

"And stick to the easy stuff, like moving slaves?" he snapped.

"You're young, yet. Don't be so quick to judge. The time will come when you find yourself doing jobs you swore you'd never take."

Mal shifted uneasily and suddenly took great interest in the toe of his right boot.

"Which brings me around to why I wanted to talk to you. The most important feature of most of the jobs I take is that they give me a legitimate reason to visit this port. I've got reasons for wanting to come here often. Back when I was a teenager, I had a friend that I shared all my secrets with." She paused a moment and seemed to gather her resolve. "Lizzy knew all the details of my first crushes and my father's beatings. I thought we'd be best friends forever. But then, we grew up and we went in different directions, and we lost touch. I guess it happens to all of us.

"I'd had my ship for a few years and was just figuring out that my crew was worthless when Lizzy showed up at our berth in Freehaven. She was ill and scared half to death, and she was eight months pregnant.

"I hid Lizzy. I fired the crew and took on a new pilot. Then we set off into the Black. I wanted to take Lizzy somewhere where she could get medical attention, but she wouldn't hear of it. She bore that baby in the cold Black. It was strong and healthy, and it was the death of her.

"Lizzy made me promise that I'd make sure the babe was safe—but she never did tell me who I was keeping the bairn safe from. So, I placed the babe in an orphanage with the monks here, and I send money for her upkeep when I can. And I keep an eye out. I've done that for nearly ten years now."

Mal looked up. "And now?"

She sighed. "Well, now I can't help thinking that she's been too long in one place. There's a stronger Alliance presence here than there used to be—and some of those types make me very nervous."

He nodded. "I can understand that."

"And the monks tell me that somebody has been asking questions. I want to find her a new haven, but I'm afraid that I'll just call attention to her. Her mother and I were too strongly connected."

"So you want me to take her?" Mal asked.

She nodded. "Take her, and find her a new home. Don't even tell me where—it's safer for her if I don't know."

"And easier for you to wash your hands of her," Mal bridled.

She tilted her head and regarded him seriously. "Maybe. Maybe that's what I'm doing. Maybe I'm tired of worrying about her, tired of the responsibility."

"And maybe I don't want the responsibility."

She smiled at him fondly. "You never do, do you? But you always shoulder it in the end. And from what little I've seen, foolhardy noble gestures are a particular specialty of yours."

Mal fingered his left ear. "They used to be, but I'm beginning to see the error of my ways."

"Well, don't be too quick to renounce your old ways. This particular gesture could earn you a handsome fee, rather than costing you one."

" _Gou pì! _It's not that simple. Sounds like some dangerous sorts might be after her already. I've got my own crew's safety to think of."

"The monks swear they gave no indication she was there. It's always been my plan to move her, but the right hero just hadn't come along."

"Oh, that's me, all right. Big damn hero."

"So, you'll do it?"

"For argument's sake, let's say I will. What kind of fee are we talking, and what would I have to go through to fetch her? You aren't keeping _her_ in a whorehouse, are you?"

Fifteen minutes later, the two captains shook hands and sealed the deal. Masters threw a cloak around her shoulders, pulled up the hood, and disappeared down the hallway to a back staircase. Mal paced the room restlessly and waited for his assigned girl to reappear.

When she slipped into the room, he stood with the chair between them and asked, "So, do I head downstairs alone looking cocky, or do we go down together?"

She threw her hat on the love seat and shook her hair back. "Well, you're all paid up for another forty minutes, and you'll make me look bad if you leave early."

"That'd be ill reward for your help, I admit. I don't suppose you've got a deck of cards or anything?"

She shook her head and walked around the left side of the chair. Mal sidestepped around to the other side.

She tilted her head to one side and smiled at him. "Scared the missus will find out?"

Mal shook his head. "No—there's no missus. Well, there might be. Anyways, she's not exactly . . . around."

"Saving yourself for someone, then?"

For Inara? She was probably in her shuttle at this very moment reviewing a list of potential clients. He laughed uncomfortably. "Not much point of that. Let's just say that my last few encounters threw me a little hard."

"All the more reason to get right back on the horse," she asserted firmly. She reached out and took his hand. She held it tight while she stepped around the chair and slid her free hand up his chest and under his suspender. "Be a sport," she murmured. "You could be the high point of my whole month. I promise just one ride around the meadow and then I'll take you back to the barn."

He looked into her eyes: they promised nothing—no attachments, no complications, just good humor and healthy lust. Simple. Of course, it could all be an act: chances were pretty good that Jayne had slipped her extra money to give the captain special treatment. Those inviting eyes might be no different from the eyes Inara showed her wealthy clients, making them feel wanted and respected. All lies. All empty posturing. Playin' parts. 'Course, he wasn't exactly in the market for a meaningful relationship right now. For all he knew, he was a married man—a married man with feelings for a fancy whore who was planning on leaving him.

At least this girl didn't look like she was likely to be in any gunfights within the next day or so.

Hell, simple looked pretty darned attractive. 

He relaxed. "If we don't waste time with a saddle, we might have time for two turns round the meadow."

* * *

_gou pì_ bullshit  
_hao_ fine  
_jiazhèngjing_ prude  
_tāmāde_ damn, fuck  



	3. Services Paid For

**Chapter 3: Services Paid For**

Jayne lounged limply on a sofa in the receiving room. He'd rushed a bit, not wanting to keep Mal waiting, and he was feeling more drained than usual. He was also feeling peevish—here he'd gone and passed on a final tussle, and Mal was nowhere to be seen. Well, he hoped that was a good sign. He was having second thoughts about his plan to get Mal laid: the captain had a way of complicating simple things like sex and was like to wind up twice as miserable. Still, he'd picked out Ginny himself—she had a lot of spirit and was smarter than most of the others. Mal's type. And she'd looked pleased when she saw him.

He stretched his arms over his head and grinned. Yeah, she would treat him right. And she wasn't likely to be getting into any gunfights.

His mind slipped back to the girl he'd just left and he drifted into a comfortable doze. He woke with a start when somebody kicked his foot.

Mal stood before him, his hands in the pockets of his brown coat. "Let's get back to the ship."

Jayne bounced to his feet. "You took long enough," he grumbled. "Did you get it done?"

Mal stiffened and glared at him.

Jayne shook his head and chuckled. He glanced around to make sure they were alone and then dropped his voice. "The _business_. Do we have a job?"

Mal nodded and lowered his voice, too. "And payment in advance. The coat's a little heavy today."

Jayne grinned. "Knew you two would work it out."

"The lady was persuasive. C'mon"

They started towards the door, but Jayne suddenly stopped and grabbed Mal's sleeve. "What about the other business?" he asked with a leer. "Didja get that done, too?"

Mal looked pointedly at the hand on his arm. "Sheesh," Jayne said. "Next time I'll bring the preacher." He dropped his hand and led the way out.

Zoë joined step with them in the next block. "Good to see you, sir," she remarked. "You were in there long enough."

"Woulda been a shame to rush," Jayne rejoined.

Mal ignored her implication. "Important thing is, we got a job."

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. "Really? Gotta say, sir, that surprises me."

"Yeah. I'm still getting' used to the idea myself."

"Will we be taking off right away?"

"No—we've got something to pick up first. And we all need to confabulate before we do that."

Kaylee and Wash were both suspiciously quick to appear in the cargo bay when the trio returned. The engineer couldn't hide her curiosity. "Have we got a job?" she asked, leaning over the railing of the catwalk above.

The captain craned his head back to look at her. "We do, indeed. And we all have some things to discuss. Gather everybody."

"Aye, aye, Cap'n!" She scampered back up the catwalk to Inara's shuttle.

Mal and the others continued past the infirmary. Zoë knocked on doors as they passed and announced to any that might hear that they were all meeting in the mess.

Within minutes, everybody was gathered at the dinner table. They gazed at Mal with curiosity.

"Okay, people. We've got a new job. It's not a hard one, but it does raise some issues. We're gonna be taking on a passenger."

A number of glances flicked towards River. Simon frowned and raised a hand in protest. "Mal—you can't be serious. It's too dangerous for River."

"This passenger is no Alliance spy or bounty hunter."

"How can you be sure?"

"I'm sure." Mal's tone brooked no disagreement. "But we need to be sure that anybody who spends time on _Serenity_ never thinks to tie the two of you to the notorious Doctor Tam and his fugitive sister. You'll have to take on other identities.

"Doctor, you are hereby demoted to platoon medic. Billy Williams was a medic under me on Hera. You're 'bout the same height and coloring. He was with us some four weeks afore he got blown to little pieces—there was no body." He paused and exchanged a long look with Zoë. She didn't react, but her calm gaze said she approved.

"Anyways," he continued, "turns out that he actually suffered a breakdown and I left him with local ranchers. To save face for him and his family, I reported him killed in action. Our paths crossed a little piece back, and now he's part of my crew."

"William Williams?" Simon asked with distaste.

"He does bear a resemblance to Billy, sir," Zoë noted. "The story might hold up, if the doctor doesn't perform any medical miracles in front of passengers."

"Let's all confine ourselves to minor wounds in front of guests," Mal suggested. "So, Doctor, you will now answer to Corporal Billy Williams. But, seein' as how the war is over, we'll just call you Billy."

Simon winced. "And how do I address you and Zoë?"

"You address the captain as _Sir_," Zoë interjected. "In the past you called him Sarge, and in moments of extreme emotion you might slip back into that. You mostly call me Zoë, but you also call me Hoity."

Jayne guffawed.

"A name I'll only suffer from those who served with me after boot camp and before Serenity Valley," she finished with a meaningful glare for her husband.

"You never call her that, Cap'n," Kaylee observed.

"And I'm the only survivor of those who served with her at Serenity Valley," Mal pointed out.

Simon swallowed and met the captain's gaze sheepishly. "I—I'm not sure I can do that convincingly. But maybe with some practice."

"You're gonna have to sell it, Billy. Get used to it."

The doctor nodded. "Yes, sir. What about River?"

Mal looked at the far end of the table. "Jayne? How you feel about having a niece or a little sister on board?"

The mercenary gaped at the captain in surprise and then turned his head to stare at his new relation. "Uh . . . 'kay. I guess she could be my sister Johnnie's daughter."

River grinned at him with pleasure.

"Why Jayne?" Simon demanded.

"She could be _my_ sister," Kaylee volunteered.

Mal shook his head emphatically. "The time might come when River needs to jump ship for her own safety. If that happens, she should have someone with her who can protect her."

"And who'll turn her into the Alliance first chance he gets!" Simon objected.

Mal rested his gaze on River. She seemed unconcerned. "He won't."

Jayne's lip twitched nervously. "I . . . would never do that."

"What's her name, Jayne?" Kaylee asked.

River gazed at him expectantly, waiting to be christened.

"Well . . . let's see. Um . . . Maggie. Her name's Maggie."

She grimaced. "Can I be Annie?"

Jayne shrugged helplessly. "Sure. Whatever. Annie Maybell Custis."

Mal nodded, marking that issue settled. "Okay. Now, we need to justify our stop here, make it look like we came of our own accord. Kaylee—I want you to make some show of getting critical engine parts and fixing _Serenity_ up. Give the impression we limped in."

Kaylee hung her head and regarded the captain sheepishly through her lashes. "I done that already, Cap'n."

"Huh?"

She raised her chin in defiance. "Cap'n Masters gave me money for fixing up _Edinburgh_. I told her I didn't think you'd like me taking the money, but she told me to spend it on the engines and not say a word. So while you were out, Wash an' me went and got a spare catalyzer and some struts."

Wash pushed his chair back in mock outrage. "Well, you're showing your true colors now, Miss Kaylee. You wasted no time in selling me out."

She grinned at him apologetically. "Sorry, Wash. You _know_ I can't keep a secret."

"I'll know next time," he agreed.

"Well, that's good, Kaylee," Mal assured her. "But, you're right—I didn't want you taking that money."

"Sorry, Cap'n," she muttered, meeting his gaze with soulful eyes.

He looked away before he could break down and tell her he forgave her. He addressed the companion, his tone all business. "Inara, we'll stay through tomorrow to make it look like we're under repairs. If you've got any offers lined up, it might look natural for you to take a customer tomorrow."

She stiffened. "I've a few—nothing much worth my time."

"Well . . . you've got tomorrow to do business. I know it's important that you know our schedule as much as possible."

"If you think it important that I take on a client, maybe you'd like to help me choose one," Inara sniped.

Kaylee gasped audibly. All eyes turned to the captain.

"You ever want help pickin' out horseflesh, I'm your man. Meanwhile, maybe you could get Kaylee to help you—she thinks it's all very romantic."

Inara gathered her regal air about her like armor. "This is actually a little short notice," she said. "Where will we be heading when we leave here? Do we have a schedule for that?"

"We'll continue to Paquin, like we'd planned. See if we can still pick up the job we were heading for. An' there's a chance our passenger will be getting off there."

"Who is this mystery person, Mal?" Wash asked. "The long lost heir to the throne of Parsimonia?" Zoë placed her hand on his arm, her way of telling him to back off.

"Nobody we need to fuss over," the captain replied. "And that's all I'm gonna say for now. If the job falls through for some reason, there's no need for anybody to know more. But once we're out of port, I'll fill you all in."

"That'll be soon enough, sir," Zoë assured him.

"Good. Then we're done for now. Preacher, could I have a moment?"

Book blinked with surprise but nodded his head and followed the captain down the stairs towards the cargo bay. Inara stood and drifted off to her shuttle while the others burst into speculation regarding the new job.

Late the next afternoon, Wash spotted for Jayne while the bigger man grunted through his final set of chest presses. The preacher was the mercenary's usual partner, but he had gone into town and Wash had allowed himself to be recruited. He suspected that their new passenger was due to arrive soon, and he wanted an excuse to linger by the entrance and get a first look. From the number of glances Jayne was throwing towards the ramp, he had timed this workout for just this purpose.

"Here comes Mal again," Wash observed, following the captain's progress from the catwalk to the floor of the cargo bay.

Jayne heaved the bar onto its rests and sat up. He wiped the sweat from his face with a towel, using the motion to cover his own interest in the captain's perambulations. "What's that—eight times?"

"Nine," Wash corrected. "Hard to tell if he's waiting for the new passenger or for Inara to get back. This is how the man stays fit—lots of nervous energy."

Mal turned at the bottom of the stairs and walked towards the infirmary and the stairs back up to the mess.

"Must work," Jayne commented. "A reliable source says he's got energy and stamina to spare."

Wash smiled. "A reliable source? Zoë told me where you went for your clandestine meeting yesterday. You didn't happen to make a little return visit this morning, did you?"

Jayne shrugged and tossed the towel onto the weight rack. "I was a little rushed yesterday. And I wanted to find out if the money I put out setting Mal up was well spent."

Wash grinned like a schoolboy. "You set him up?"

Jayne took extreme care in selecting a dumbbell from the rack. "Yeah. He was acting so tragical after Nandi, I figured if he didn't get laid soon, he might never get it up again."

Wash's smile faded into a grimace. "Well . . . that was generous, and very . . . sensitive of you," he ventured. "I gather you took some time to talk to the girl in question?"

"Well—more'n a little time. But we didn't talk all that much."

"You mean you—with the one who—_Jayne!_"

"Why not?" Jayne asked. "She's the best one."

"Yeah, but . . . weren't you afraid you'd, you know, suffer in the comparison?"

"Nah. 'Sides, you fight with a man, sharin' a woman feels right." Jayne sat on the bench and began a set of concentration curls.

"Somehow I doubt the captain would see it that way."

"Yeah, he's got some funny ideas. Still . . . unnnhh . . . I don't see why he'd mind much."

"I think it has a lot to do with why he and Inara can't get together. Most of us like to think that we've got a woman all to ourselves," Wash explained.

Jayne paused with the dumbbell against his chin and looked the pilot up and down with disdain. "You're foolin' yourself, little man. Zoë may be yours now, but she and Mal must have a history that way. _You_ just might be sufferin' by comparison."

"Okay, we're going to stop talking about this now," Wash asserted firmly. He busied himself changing the weights on the bar. Jayne smirked his way through his curls and moved around the bench to spot for the pilot when he was ready.

Wash was finishing up his second set when they heard a tapping on the entrance. Jayne helped him settle the bar and then crossed to the hatch and peered through the glass in it. He nodded once in recognition and stabbed the release button.

Shepherd Book, a small suitcase in his hand, stepped through. He turned and held out his hand to somebody behind him, obviously encouraging whoever it was to follow him through. Wash craned to see.

A little girl stepped hesitantly on board. She had the dark hair and almond eyes of a predominantly Chinese bloodline, and she clutched a doll to her chest with her left hand. Her eyes were red, as if she'd been crying recently. Wash's heart went right out to her and his feet followed.

"Is this our new passenger?" he asked Book.

Book set the suitcase down and spread his arms between the two to make introductions. "Yes, this is Lily. Lily, this is Wash, the ship's pilot."

Wash wiped his sweaty hand on his shirt and then extended it to her. She shook it solemnly.

Jayne suddenly appeared at Wash's side, performed the same motion to dry his palm, and extended his hand, too. He grinned down in what passed for a friendly manner and said, "And I'm Jayne. I don't fly the ship—I come along to keep everybody safe."

She took a step back and craned her head back to look at him. Her eyes got even larger.

"He's big, isn't he?" Wash remarked. "Don't worry, he's got a soft spot for little girls."

She reached out shyly and shook Jayne's hand. She snatched her arm back quickly once that was over.

"Has our passenger arrived?" came Mal's voice from above. 

Wash turned and watched the captain descend the stairs and come towards them. "Captain Reynolds, this is Lily," the pilot said formally, stepping aside to make way for him.

"Welcome aboard _Serenity_," Mal said pleasantly. "We're mostly a cargo ship, so I'm afraid our accommodations ain't exactly luxurious. Still, we'll do what we can to make you comfortable."

"Thank you, sir," she said quietly. She glanced up at Book. He smiled encouragingly at her and took her hand. She returned her attention to the captain. "How long will I be on board?"

Mal cleared his throat. "Well, I don't rightly know for sure. We'll be going to Paquin first, and Wash tells me that'll take four days. There's a chance you'll be getting off there, but if that doesn't work out, then we'll just have to see." He looked at Book. "Shepherd, could you please show Lily her quarters?"

"Of course, Captain," the preacher replied, leading the little girl away.

Mal turned to the pilot. "Wash, Inara is due back any minute. I want us out of here as soon as she's aboard—but don't make it look like we're in too much of a hurry to leave."

"Right," Wash said. "Casual haste. One of my specialties, along with frantic inaction and direct circumlocution."

"I just don't want to draw any attention, if you get my meaning," the captain said impatiently, turning to mount the stairs again.

"I understand," Wash expounded, trailing after him. "Inconspicuous you want and inconspicuous you shall get. Our departure will be so tactful, no one will even realize that we've gone."

"Mal, I think we're being followed," Wash admitted, waving a hand at the proximity monitor. "The signal comes and goes, but I would swear there's a ghost out there."

"What happened to our tactful departure?" the captain asked, annoyed.

The pilot raised his hands defensively. "Hey—maybe we attracted attention to ourselves before we left port. Nothing about our exit was unusual."

Mal balled his hand into a fist and smote the back of the copilot's chair. "Okay. All the more reason to continue with our original plan to pick up the job on Paquin, right? We're behind schedule, so let's put on all reasonable speed and get there as fast as we can. And keep a close eye on those monitors."

"Right!"

"I'll set up a schedule of round-the-clock watches, just to be safe."

The next afternoon, Zoë found Mal sitting at the head of the table with a cup of coffee and a pile of paperwork. The rest of the table was covered with scattered dinosaurs; three of them were tumbled in a rough line where he had swept them aside with his arm before sitting down.

"Wash says we're right on schedule, sir," she reported, sitting down to his left.

"Good to hear," he replied. "Any more sign of company?"

She shook her head. "Not since that blip this morning. Wash is keeping a close watch. Any suspicions who it might be?"

"Lily's father. Alliance agents or bounty hunters after River. Niska's goons. Saffron escaped from prison and out for revenge. Reavers. Take your pick."

"List's gettin' long, sir."

"Yes, it is. I'm open to suggestions on how to shorten it."

Zoë's face got very hard. "We could kill Niska, sir."

Mal looked wistful. "One thing at a time. First, let's just get to Paquin in one piece."

"You really think there's a chance we haven't missed the job?" she asked.

"Not much of one," he admitted. "But it doesn't hurt for us to at least show up and give the impression we tried."

She nodded her agreement with that point.

"'Sides," he continued, "I'm sorta hoping we can deliver our passenger there. I thought we'd look up Tom and Bessie Wong. They have a girl just a few years older, and they could pass as her parents."

"Did Captain Masters really leave it up to you to find a new home for her?"

Mal frowned and nodded. "Yup. And I'm thinking that the faster we find her a home, the easier it'll be on all of us."

Kaylee crept through the hatch from below, put a finger to her lips, and then ducked behind the couch at the far end of the room. Neither of them reacted to her presence.

"My foolish husband is already totally smitten with her," Zoë said with a fond smile. 

Lily scurried past them and disappeared into the kitchen.

Mal swept an arm towards the dinosaurs on the table. "They've been staging prehistoric dramas together. I missed most of it, but I think her dialogue is better than Wash's: _You one-eyed son of a no-tail gecko—you ate my children and the last of the raspberry bushes. Prepare to die!_"

"It would break his heart to hear you say so, sir."

"Well, I count on you to keep that our secret."

"Ready or not, here I come!" came River's voice from below.

Zoë lowered her voice. "Are you sure _zhuōmícáng_ is a game you should be allowing, sir? If we take on cargo at Paquin, it could get awkward if our passenger knows all the secret places."

Mal shrugged. "Can't believe it'll matter."

River pounded up the stairs and burst into the room. She stopped and turned her head from side to side, listening. She had a huge smile on her face.

Mal leaned close to Zoë and whispered, "I think Annie's cheating." He stood up casually, picked up his cup, and walked to the kitchen for a refill. He leaned in the doorway to take a cautious sip and ostensibly to watch River's progress. He also effectively blocked her way to Lily's hiding place.

River met his eyes challengingly. "The Tuscans raised a joyful cry / To see the red blood flow."

He winked.

She laughed silently and glanced knowingly towards the couch. She paced around the room and sang, "Come out, come out wherever you are." She made a show of pausing in the middle of the room and considering. "Hmmmm," she mused. Then she disappeared down the stairs again.

Mal glanced over his shoulder. To his surprise, Lily was standing right in the middle of the galley: he hadn't seen her at all when he poured his coffee. He raised his cup in a toast to her and then went back to the table.

A moment later, Jayne's voice echoed through the ship from below. "Gorram it! Why do you find _me_ every time?"

Mal looked at Zoë. She was struggling to restrain a laugh. "Looks like Jayne's _it_ again," he observed.

* * *

_zhuōmícáng_ hide-and-seek 


	4. Debts Called In

**Chapter 4: Debts Called In**

River tugged the flapped hat more tightly over her ears and knelt down to tie the lace of her boot. She glanced up the dirt street towards the captain, his brown coat billowing gently as he sauntered away. Under cover of the flaps, her gaze flicked to two men who had been loitering in a doorway and who now casually strode after the captain. 

She knew those minds. She had touched them briefly when she had cast her mind out towards their ghostly pursuers. They had never been close or intent enough for her to fully read, but the echo was distinctly familiar. As she stood up, she squeezed Zoë's arm. The first mate didn't acknowledge the signal, but she clapped the girl on the shoulder and smiled in a comradely fashion. "Ready to go on?"

River nodded. She thrust her hands deep into the pockets of her borrowed coverall and took long strides in order to keep up.

Beside her, Zoë whistled a lilting dance tune.

Up ahead, Mal turned into a disreputable-looking bar. The two men stopped to speak briefly into a comm link and then followed the captain. 

Zoë scanned the street for any other observers, but saw none. She steered River towards a shop across the street. "I feel the need of a drink," she said. "Why don't you see if you can find a gift for Billy?"

River nodded and entered the store dutifully while Zoë walked back across the street to the bar. She fingered the goods on the table nearest the front window while she strained all her senses towards the captain and his crewwoman. As usual, Zoë was hard to read, but the captain was radiating tension and a certain wild enjoyment. It felt like salt spray on a stiff ocean wind.

Slowly her senses registered another trace, a whiff of hot metal and sickness. She leaned against the table and looked down the street towards a tall white-haired man in a dark suit. He was smirking. She backed away from the window, closed her eyes, and reached out with her mind.

She sifted through the images. A faceless girl. A Firefly. Smiling superiors. Blue hands. 

River's eyes flew open. She let out a whimper and cast frantic glances around the shop. She had to hide, _now_. There was a door at the back of the shop. Ignoring the protests of the shopkeeper, she bolted through the door and stumbled into the alley beyond. There she ducked behind the garbage bins, collapsed to her knees, and covered her head with her arms.

She had to run.

"Two by two. Hands of blue."

To hide.

"Two by two . . ."

She had to warn the captain.

She wrapped her arms around herself and rocked gently, taking deep breaths to calm her rising panic. She pictured the captain and how she'd touched minds with him before—in Serenity Valley. On a different level, images of the Alliance academy flashed by: cold needles penetrating her eyes, fingers sifting through her brain, endless screams with nobody to hear.

She arched her back and flung a mental shout to the captain.

Zoë got a drink at the bar a few stools down from where Mal was leaning and took it to a table against the wall. She faced the entrance as if she were expecting somebody, but her real attention was on the two men at the table nearest the door.

To all appearances, they were shippers killing a few hours in port while deciding how to spend their first free evening. They were unremarkable: medium height, one fair and dressed in gray, the other dark-skinned and wearing black and red. Their jackets could easily conceal firearms.

They kept up a casual conversation regarding plans for a night on the town. The fair one cast a surreptitious glance at Mal's back.

Mal took a long pull on his drink and turned slowly around. He leaned back on the bar a moment and listened to the conversation. Then, to Zoë's unsurprised dismay, his lips turned up in a friendly grin, his eyes lit up with mischief, and he strolled over to the table.

"You boys sound like you might know what this port has to offer in the way of entertainment," he said, pulling a chair over and sitting down. "Any words of advice for a first-timer?"

Both men stared at him. He flicked his gaze from one to the other, still smiling, obviously waiting for them to answer his question.

The dark one cleared his throat. "Hey, listen, mac, we're trying to have a private conversation here."

Mal's eyes widened. "Heck. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to butt in."

Then he leaned over and clapped the man on the shoulder in a friendly fashion. "It's just, ya see, since you fellas followed me in here, I figured you must wanna make my acquaintance." His lip curled up and he extended his other arm to touch the shoulder of the second man. "So, how about you tell me what's on your minds?"

Zoë reached beneath her coat and fingered a pistol.

The door to the bar creaked open and an aged, upright man in a dark suit paused in the opening. He took in the scene at the table with one cold glance.

"I thought I told you two to avoid contact with the suspect until I arrived," he remarked.

Mal pushed his chair back and stood up.

Zoë pushed her chair back slightly and drew her gun under the table.

"'Fraid the contact part was my idea," Mal volunteered. "These boys tried real hard, but they're not exactly adept when it comes to tailing people. I was just cuttin' to the chase."

"I think you'll find the chase is over, Captain Reynolds," the man replied. "We meant to follow you to your contact and intercept the girl when you made the exchange. As it is, I'm afraid we'll have to insist on returning to your ship with you."

Mal's brow furrowed. "Girl?"

The man smiled tolerantly. "Come, come, Captain. Let us not play games."

Mal put his hands on his hips. "On my honor as a loyal member of the Alliance, I swear that I have no idea what you are—" He broke off and rocked back. His eyes screwed shut and he put a hand to his brow.

Zoë sprang to her feet, biting her lips to keep from calling to Mal.

"Unnhhh. Two by two . . ." He stumbled sideways to the bar and fell against it. He clutched his temples and turned slowly towards the middle of the room, his back against the bar's edge. Suddenly his manner became calm and he looked sadly into the eyes of the white-haired man. "The lieutenant is dead. It's up to us now," he announced.

Then his eyes rolled back and he crumpled bonelessly to the floor.

Nobody moved. They all stared at the fallen captain, unsure if his collapse was a ruse of some sort. Finally, the older man snapped his fingers. "Check him."

The other two stood and took a step towards Mal.

"Step away from him!" Zoë barked, her gun covering all three men.

They froze.

She stepped around her table and up to the captain. Her eyes never left the first two men, and they backed away as she got closer. The older man stayed where he was and regarded her with mild interest. She knelt next to Mal and groped along his neck until she found a pulse. It was faint, but steady. She slid her hand down to his chest and felt it move slightly. He was breathing.

The cold hand around her heart loosened a little.

She stood. "I would take it as a great kindness if the three of you would just go along your way," she said firmly.

The white-haired man laughed kindly. The sound sent chills down Zoë's back. "My dear, let us help you. You can't possibly manage the captain on your own. Allow my men to carry him back to the ship for you."

"No, thank you," Zoë said. She backed away a step. "Just go. Now." She raised her gun higher and glared at the man.

To her right, the darker man suddenly dove past her and flipped a table up. Her gun arm swung to that side and she fired.

At the same time, she heard another shot.

She whipped her head around and saw the older man standing with a small pistol in his hand. Presumably it had been in a sleeve holster of some sort. The gun was pointing toward the floor.

Toward Mal.

"Put your gun down now, my dear," the man said smoothly. "My men have finally managed to draw their weapons, and even if you could gun them down, I'm afraid my next shot is going through the captain's face."

Zoë stared at the man for a moment longer, afraid to look. Finally she dropped her eyes to Mal. He was rolled further onto his back than before and a red stain was spreading along his outer thigh.

_He didn't hit the coat_, she thought absurdly. _Mal will be glad he didn't hit the coat_.

The gun fell from her fingers.

Wash and Lily were on the bridge with the dinosaurs spread out between them on the deck when Zoë's voice came over the ship's intercom: "We have Alliance officials on board, people. They'll be searching the ship. Just let them do their job—the sooner they figure out we've got nothing to hide, the sooner they'll be gone."

Wash dropped his triceratops and scrambled to his knees, grabbing Lily by her shoulders and looking frantically about. "_Gāisi_. Sweetie, we don't want those officers to see you. You want to play hide-and-seek again?"

She nodded, her eyes huge. She pulled away from the pilot and headed towards the corridor. 

"Not too far," he advised in a stage whisper. "We don't want to run into them."

She ran only as far as the hatch to the captain's quarters. Without even glancing back at Wash, she popped the hatch and scurried down the ladder. "Don't come out until Kaylee calls you," he instructed, closing the hatch behind her. He rushed back to the bridge, where he gathered up the dinosaurs and tossed them on the copilot's chair. Then he headed to the cargo bay.

He joined Inara on the catwalk and shrank back as a pair of men with a portable sensor of some kind mounted the stairs towards them. Below, a white-haired man stood at elegant ease just inside the cargo bay, a gun held loosely in his hand.

Zoë sat on the floor by the airlock controls. Mal was lying limply in her arms, his head cradled against her breast. She hunched over him protectively, shielding him from the gun. Wash couldn't see his face. His coat was open wide, and he could see a bloody cloth wrapped around his left thigh.

His first instinct was to run to Zoë, to add his own body as a barrier between her and that cold glare. He moved just one step before Inara's hand closed on his arm. When he met her eyes, she shook her head once and whispered, "Don't!" He swallowed and bit his lip, and then he gazed below again, this time with a more critical eye. Inara was right—this man had a cold cruelty about him. He would not be helping the situation if he gave him another hostage to use against Zoë.

He put his arm around Inara's shoulders and steered her towards the mess.

Kaylee and Simon had been sitting at the table, but now they were both standing, Kaylee clutching the doctor's arm.

"Mal's been hurt," Inara reported breathlessly. "I think he's unconscious. It looks like they're coercing Zoë by threatening to harm him further."

Simon turned wide eyes upon her. "Is River with them?"

She shook her head. "I didn't see her."

Simon looked helplessly from Inara to Kaylee. "What do we do?" he implored.

Inara moved to his side and placed her hand on his arm. "We do what Zoë told us to do. We sit here quietly and we let them search." She sat down at the table and folded her hands in her lap.

Kaylee released Simon's other arm and leaned across the table. "But if they search," she hissed, "they'll find—"

Wash silenced her by putting a finger to his lips and sitting down next to Inara. Kaylee bit off her objection and sat, too. She tried to fold her hands in her lap, but had to settle for sitting on them in order to keep them still.

Jayne slunk in from his bunk. A moment later, Shepherd Book came up from the passenger quarters and joined them. 

There were two teams of searchers. One team worked their way up through the passenger quarters, while the second team started with the cargo bay itself and then moved on to the shuttles. Inara stared straight ahead while they searched through her things.

Wash craned his head and watched as they searched the crew quarters. They started with his and Zoë's, then moved on to Jayne's. After that, they crossed the corridor and entered Kaylee's room. Wash held his breath.

When they finished there, they walked past Mal's bunk and went to the bridge.

Wash stared down at his hands, afraid that he would give the show away.

When the men finished and headed back down to the cargo bay, the entire crew followed wordlessly behind them. Wash met the doctor's worried eyes and smiled slightly in encouragement.

"Our sensors find no girl here, sir," one of the men reported to the white-haired official, "But there are a girl's belongings in one of the rooms." He held out a skirt and a dress—River's. "We observed a third person with the captain and the mate when they departed."

The older man took the proffered clothing and turned it over in his hands. "These things are too large for a ten-year-old." He looked up at the crew. "Who is this girl?"

"Uh—my niece, Annie," Jayne volunteered hesitantly. "She's travellin' with us a spell."

"And where is she?"

"Well . . . like your man said, she went to town with the captain and Zoë," Jayne said blankly.

"She went shoppin'," Zoë interjected. "She wanted to get Jayne a present."

The man pointed his gaze and his gun at Zoë while he considered what she had said. Finally, he flung the clothes on the floor. "Pah! It might be that your captain was telling the truth. Don't think that we won't be watching."

He turned on his heel and strode out, closely followed by his underlings. Jayne punched the button that closed the airlock behind them.

The moment they had cleared the doorway, Wash flung himself down on his knees beside his wife. Inara crouched beside Mal. She touched his face tentatively, as though afraid that it would be cold beneath her fingers.

Zoë leaned across Mal and grasped her shoulder. "He's alive, Inara."

Wash watched the companion look into his wife's eyes and saw the same fear, the same desperate comfort in both faces.

Then Simon gently pushed Inara aside and felt for Mal's pulse. He glanced at Zoë. "What happened?"

"I'm not sure," she replied. "Mal was just talking to that _húndàn_ when he suddenly grabbed his head and then collapsed. Like he had a stroke or something."

Simon pulled the captain's eyelids up and checked his pupils. "OK. Let's get him into the infirmary." He moved to take hold of Mal's legs. Before he lifted, he paused and looked up at Zoë. "And River?"

"I didn't lie, Doctor," she assured him. "I left her in a store across the street. Once the captain's settled, I'll take her uncle and go find her."

Wash bit off a curse and clutched his hair. "Find! I've got to let Lily out!" He leapt to his feet and grabbed Kaylee by the hand. "C'mon, Kaylee, I need you to call the all clear."

Zoë hardly spoke as she and Jayne walked from the ship to the store where she had left River. Jayne didn't mind: his own thoughts were churning from the events of the past hour.

To his own great surprise, he couldn't get the vision of Mal lying so still in Zoë's arms out of his head. He had always expected Mal to go down in a fight, not to just collapse like that. Hell, Mal was younger than Jayne—didn't seem right.

And nothing had better have happened to River. Jayne wasn't done atoning for turning her into the Alliance, and he thought of her as his personal charge. He wondered if Mal had picked up on that, if that was why the captain had made River his niece for the benefit of passengers. Oddly, it was a relationship Jayne welcomed.

As he followed Zoë into the store, he pushed all his concerns and doubts out of his mind and concentrated on River. He couldn't explain to anybody what it was that allowed him to track other people so well: he just opened his mind to her and followed his instincts.

His gaze darted around the small showroom. He circled the room once and then stopped by the display in front of the window. He touched the folded clothing.

One stack was knocked askew. He fingered the sweater on the top and looked up. He had a direct view through the window of the entrance across the street.

He turned to face the opposite direction and spotted a doorway at the back of the store. "C'mon," he grunted, striding to it.

The shopkeeper tried to follow them out the back, but Zoë put her hand to her gun and shut the door in his face.

Outside, Jayne could hear a familiar murmuring. He walked further into the alley and found River seated behind the trash bins, rocking side to side and talking quietly to herself. Her face was tracked with tears.

Jayne knelt beside her and looked up at Zoë for guidance. The first mate's face reflected the same helplessness that he felt. Suddenly Jayne wished they had brought Kaylee or Wash with them.

He cleared his throat and waved his hand in front of River's eyes. "Hey, River? You in there?"

When she failed to respond, he grasped her gently by the shoulders and gave her a little shake. "Annie! C'mon, enough hide-and-seek—time to head back to the ship."

Her gaze shifted towards him, but her eyes were still unfocused. "He slipped through to the back room."

Zoë crouched beside Jayne and touched River's shoulder. "She must've felt the captain fall. River! Honey—the captain is gonna be fine."

Jayne shot her a questioning glance, wondering if she really believed that. She shrugged back and addressed the girl again. "Come on. I bet he'll be awake and waiting for us when we get back."

River looked at her with anguished eyes. "No! You don't understand. I felt him leave. He's _gone_!" She beat her forehead with the heel of her hand. "I just wanted to warn him. Just warn him."

Jayne backed away from her in horror. "_Tāmāde." _He looked at Zoë with naked fear in his eyes. "She really can kill you with her brain!"

Zoë found the silence in the infirmary unnerving. The doctor had sedated River and put her to bed, and Zoë had ordered the crew to catch what sleep they could. Inara had drifted off on the sofa in the outer room, and the shepherd was poring over his Bible beside her. The doctor had left strict orders that she call him if there was any change and had retired to catch what sleep he could.

Mal had not stirred since she watched him collapse, and his shallow breathing made no sound. The stillness was frightening: the air around the captain was normally filled with tension. Even when he slept, he tended to dream and speak the names of long-dead soldiers. She found herself touching him—laying her hand against his cheek or taking his hand—to confirm that he was still warm.

Truth be told, she had expected Mal to wake by now. It was the deepest dead of night—the time when he tended to prowl the ship restlessly. If he slept through this night, she feared he'd never wake at all.

River had been so sure that she had killed him.

Without the proper monitoring equipment, Simon was unable to determine how much brain activity was going on inside the captain's head. He had warned her that if the captain had indeed suffered a stroke of some sort, he might be partially paralyzed or have trouble speaking.

She crossed her arms across her chest and paced the few steps to the far wall. There she turned on her heel and regarded the captain coolly. "C'mon, sir—this sorry crew is in need of some leadership. That sad excuse for a pilot needs to know what course to set, the hired muscle is contemplatin' desertion, and the first mate is too absorbed in her own problems to keep them all in hand. We need you back—and soon would be best."

He didn't respond.

She leaned her hip against the wall. "Mal, you're broken enough without this. You may think I don't remember, but I can still see that devout, hopeful boy that I followed into battle after battle. I keep thinking that if I watch your back long enough, I may actually get to see a glimpse of him again. I'd dearly like to, sir."

She pushed herself away from the wall and paced around the table. "You know, sometimes I think that if something were to happen to you—if one of our jobs were to go wrong—then I'd be free. There'd be nothin' tying me to _Serenity_ anymore, and Wash and I could go off and start that family we're wantin'. It would be easier—I wouldn't have to make any hard decisions.

"But it's not that simple, is it? Think of the guilt I'd have to live with, sir. I know you're familiar with guilt, so I know that you'd want to spare me that."

She moved to his side and gripped the side of the medical table, leaning over him. "I'm baring my soul here, sir. Feel free to jump in with a smart comment any time."

Mal's nostrils flared. Beneath his eyelids, his eyes moved.

Zoë took a deep breath and held it. She gripped his right hand in hers and stroked his brow with her left. "I'm right here, sir. Just open your eyes and you'll see me."

His fingers twitched in hers. A very low moan worked its way out his throat.

Remembering her promise to Simon, Zoë dropped his hand and ran out to slam her fist against the doctor's bedroom door. "Simon! He's waking up." A moment later, she was clutching his hand again. "Still here, sir."

Mal's respiration deepened and became more jagged. His head rolled to the left.

Simon shuffled into the room, still fully dressed, but a little rumpled. He moved to Mal's left side and held his wrist lightly, feeling the pulse. Inara and Book trailed after him and hovered by the door.

Mal's eyes opened. He blinked a few times.

Simon placed his hand on the captain's shoulder. "Take it slow, Mal. You're on _Serenity_. Everything's fine."

Mal's eyes showed no comprehension. He turned his head to the right and squinted at Zoë. 

She smiled at him reassuringly. "I was beginning to think you'd never wake up, sir. It's good to see your eyes open."

In her heart, she willed Mal to speak. 

He looked at her in total confusion. He pushed himself up slightly on his elbows and moved his lips tentatively. An odd grunt escaped them.

The hand in hers suddenly clenched, crushing her bones together. His back arched, the tendons in his neck stood out, and he slammed back on the table. 

"Damn!" Simon swore, spreading his arms wide and pressing Mal's body down. "He's going to seize."

A moment later, the rigid muscles contracted and his limbs thrashed with a horrible, regular rhythm.

Zoë threw her arms out and pressed him down with all her weight, desperately trying to keep him from falling to the floor. She raised her chin high to avoid his flailing hands.

In the doorway, Inara gasped and buried her face against the shepherd's chest. The preacher stared with horrified fascination.

"How long . . . will this last?" Zoë gasped.

"Not long," Simon replied. "Just don't . . . let him . . . fall."

True to the doctor's word, the seizures eased after a couple of minutes. Mal lay motionless save for his gasping attempts to catch his breath. His face was ashen, his eyes closed once again.

Inara pulled away from Book and rushed to the foot of the table. "Is he all right?"

"I think so," Simon replied distractedly, counting Mal's heartbeats once again. He paused in his examination and looked up. "Seizures like that aren't uncommon. After what he's been through, it might be like hitting a reset button. Give him a few minutes—the convulsions can be exhausting."

They all stood and stared down at the captain, waiting. After a minute, Inara glanced at the doctor and raised her eyebrows questioningly. Zoë did the same. Simon shrugged helplessly.

"We're all kinda waitin' for you to say something, sir," Zoë finally said.

"I was sorta enjoying the quiet," Mal remarked hoarsely. He opened his eyes just enough to squint up at her.

"Thank God," Book breathed from the doorway.

The captain kept his gaze on his first mate. "Where are we?"

"On _Serenity_," Zoë replied. "Everybody's safe and sound."

"Huh? How'd we manage that?"

"Turns out those hours of _zhuōmícáng_ weren't wasted. Lily's a first-class hider. She can even hide from sensors."

Mal's brow furrowed as he tried to absorb that. Finally, he gave up. "Is River all right?"

"She's been distraught," Simon interjected. "I suspect she'll be better once she sees that you've recovered." He wet his lips and then hesitantly asked, "Did she really cause your attack?"

Mal struggled to sit up. Simon and Zoë put their hands behind his shoulders and pushed him upright. He leaned forwards and scrubbed at his forehead with his palms. "She clawed her way into my head, screaming, and then she ran around in it in a panic, slammin' against the walls. There wasn't room for both of us."

"She said she was trying to warn you," Zoë said.

He looked up at her. "She did—those men were connected with the ones from the academy, weren't they?"

She nodded.

"So, I guess this means that she's more than a reader," Book commented seriously.

Mal sighed. "I get the ramifications, Preacher, believe me. But right now, I'm just wishin' the little _mógui_ in my head would stop stabbin' the backs of my eyeballs."

"Sleep's the best thing for that, Mal," the doctor assured him. "I'll give you something to help you rest."

"Okay," the captain complied gratefully. "How long was I out?"

"About fifteen hours, Mal," Inara told him. "We were getting worried."

"That long? Then why am I so _jīnpílìjìn_?" he complained.

"Seizures will do that," the doctor remarked. He was filling a syringe from a vial he'd taken from a cabinet. "Also, you lost some blood."

Mal frowned in confusion.

Simon pulled the blanket aside to reveal the bandage on Mal's bare thigh. A red stain was seeping through it. "The convulsions started the bleeding again. I'll change that dressing." He swabbed Mal's arm.

"My head hurts so bad, I didn't even feel the leg," Mal confessed as the doctor gave him the injection.

"It's not too bad," Zoë assured him. "That _chunrén _shot you while you were unconscious."

Simon turned away to find the bandages.

"That's how he got Zoë to surrender her gun," Book explained angrily.

Mal met Zoë's eyes. "Any chance you killed this guy already?" His eye was caught by something at the door. "Hey—why ain't you in bed?"

Zoë followed his gaze. Lily stood in the doorway, her hair tangled from sleep. She was wearing Jayne's Big Guns t-shirt; it came down well past her knees. She moved stiffly to Mal's side and fixed him with a wide-eyed stare.

"That man hurt you," she stated.

"Nothin' serious," he assured her.

"He was going to hurt me," she continued.

"I'm afraid he was, sweetheart. That's why we're gonna find you someplace safe to live."

She chewed her lip, considering. "But I like it here," she finally protested. "I want to stay with Wash and Annie."

Mal lay back with a pained expression. He put on the frown that Zoë knew meant he was deadly earnest. "I'm sorry, sweetheart, but _Serenity_ ain't no place for little girls. It can get right dangerous here, and we don't like to risk precious cargo."

_Like Kaylee or Inara_, Zoë thought wryly. _Or Wash_.

Inara put her arm around the girl and smiled at her. "Sweetie, it's the middle of the night and we all need to sleep. Come on—I'll tuck you in, and we'll let Billy and Zoë tuck the captain in."

Lily looked annoyed, but gave in. She resisted long enough to turn to the captain and say, "Good night." Then she stood on her toes and kissed his cheek.

He reached out and touched her face as she turned away. "Good night," he called after her.

* * *

_chunrén_ prick (person)  
_húndàn _bastard, son of a bitch  
_jīnpílìjìn_ exhausted, tired  
_mógui_ demon  
_tāmāde_ damn, fuck  
_zhuōmícáng_ hide-and-seek  



	5. Call It Even

**Chapter 5: Call It Even**

Wash was awake in the darkness when Zoë crept down the ladder and felt for the bed. "Hey, hon—everything okay?"

"As well as it can be," she assured him with a smile in her voice. "Mal's gonna be fine."

"That's good, lamby toes."

She shed her clothes quickly and slipped between the sheets. He pulled her to him.

She reached up in the dark and caressed his cheek. "I'm sorry today's been all about Mal, baby."

He gave her a tight squeeze. "He needed you today. Hell—we were all worried." He held her for a moment in silence. "I realized something tonight," he finally said. "I've been demanding that we plan on a time when we can be alone together, start a family maybe. But you can never leave here, can you, as long as Mal's here on _Serenity_? He's got too much of a hold on you."

"You make it sound like he's forcing me to stay," she accused.

"No—I don't mean it that way. It's just that he needs you. If we leave and then something happens to him, we'll live with his ghost forever. And he's enough of a torment alive—I can't imagine the tortures he could come up with if he were dead."

"I owe him my life—my sanity," Zoë said matter-of-factly.

"Me, too," Wash commented. "This isn't such a bad place." He pulled her close and explored her ear with his tongue.

She swatted at him affectionately and twisted around to face him. "Actually, I've been thinking about that," she said.

Mal woke late the next morning. He was eager to join the crew for lunch, but the doctor was determined to keep him in the infirmary. Simon thought to accomplish this by refusing to get the captain a pair of pants, a stratagem that ignored the fact that the captain had already appeared comfortably nude in front of the entire crew. Mal buttoned his shirt, threw his suspenders over his shoulders, and pulled his boots on. Lack of pants was not an obstacle.

However, a bullet hole in the thigh was something of a deterrent to roaming. He made it as far as the outer lounge before he felt a need to sit down. He eased himself down onto the sofa and, leaning his head against the seat back, closed his eyes.

"Captain? Could I have a word?"

"I thought I might get a few minutes, at least, before you all lined up to lecture me," Mal complained. He opened his eyes enough to glare at Shepherd Book. "What's on your mind, Preacher? You got another special hell you want to tell me about?"

Book sat stiffly on the far end of the sofa. "I'm beginning to think that you are far too well acquainted with all the special hells for me to presume to lecture you on any of them."

"That's a relief," Mal said with a smile. "The lectures were gettin' tiresome."

"Actually, Captain, I wanted to make an offer to you regarding Lily."

"We need to find a safer place for her."

"I know. I've been giving that some thought. She seemed to do well enough in the monastery orphanage. I could take her myself and set her up somewhere with my order. We're not without influence, and we're very discreet. She'd be as safe as she could be anywhere else."

"Safe in God's hands?" Mal sneered. "There's a certain uncomfortableness in that thought."

"Safe among men who would give their lives to protect her," Book countered.

"I have respect for that, Preacher—I do." He glanced away for a moment. "You might be asking the one thing I can't do. But I promise you I'll give it consideration."

Book stood and placed his hand on the captain's shoulder. "Just keep the girl's best interests in your heart, Mal. You'll make the right decision."

"I don't know," Mal replied, looking up. "I think there are nothing but wrong choices here. It's like war: if you fight the fight, you're going to lose soldiers. I'm sorely tired of losing soldiers, Preacher."

"People wouldn't trust you so if that weren't the case," Book assured him.

As soon as the preacher had gone, Mal realized he should have asked him to fetch him some pants.

Mal gathered his strength and his resolve for a few minutes and then began his assault on the stairs. Before he'd made it halfway, he'd been snapped at by the doctor and offered a carry (which he'd refused) from Jayne. A few minutes later, Inara came down the stairs with a pair of his pants over her arm.

"Your lack of pants is becoming a sensation," she said with a smile. "Half-dressed isn't a good look for you."

"I'm more of an all-or-nothin' kind of guy," he agreed. He eased himself down to the steps and pulled the pants on.

She sat down next to him. "Actually, I think it's the suspenders that spoil the look. Without anything to hold up, they just flap around."

He attached the suspenders to the pants and gave them a smart snap. "Better?" he asked, leaning away from her so she could get the full effect.

She laughed at him. "You'll pass muster on this ship." Then, without asking his leave, she walked with him up the remaining stairs to the dining area. Her manner made it seem as though he were escorting her, when in reality she lent an arm for him to steady himself whenever he felt the need.

Lunch was decidedly awkward. The shepherd had used his dwindling store of herbs to scramble up some savory dehydrated eggs, but his efforts couldn't survive the chill after River took one look at the captain, bit her lip in distress and fled from the room. Added to that was the strain of keeping the conversation light for Lily's benefit and preventing her from showering the captain with requests to stay aboard. Mal smiled gratefully at Kaylee when she suggested a game of jacks and dragged Lily away.

Mal helped himself to seconds once the rabble had cleared out. Thus fortified, he left the cleanup to the shepherd (hardly fair, since he'd cooked, but Book wasn't complaining), and limped to the bridge.

Zoë and Wash were there, their arms wrapped around each other. Mal ignored their intimate pose and addressed himself to the pilot. "So, where are we?"

"Sitting tight in the middle of nowhere. You got a course for me yet?"

Mal shook his head. "We need to be lost for a day or so. Just see to that."

"I think I can just about manage that."

"Good." The captain looked uneasily towards the noise coming up from the cargo bay.

The look wasn't lost on Wash. "Who are you avoiding this time?"

"Nearly everybody," Mal admitted. "But Lily mostly. She's starting to feel too much at home here."

"_Serenity_ has that effect, Sir," Zoë commented. "We never did get rid of that last bunch of passengers."

Mal lounged back in the copilot's seat. "That's true. I may need to rethink this entire paid-passage concept."

"The whole problem," Wash theorized, "is that you keep thinking of the passengers as people. Big mistake. As soon as they sense that you have even the slightest bit of sympathy for them, you lose all control of the situation and they wind up traveling on an open-ended ticket for free. You always start off well—rude as hell. But then you let them see past that. Maybe if you just stayed in your cabin all day and paced the decks in the middle of ship's night. You could get a peg leg."

"What's he prattling on about?" Mal asked his first mate.

"I find it's better if I don't know, sir," she answered.

Mal nodded knowingly. "Any regrets yet on that whole marrying issue?"

"Fewer than on anything else I've ever done," she said with a smile.

"I suppose I oughta take some umbrage at that statement."

"Be my guest, sir."

They all sat in companionable silence for a few minutes. Finally, Wash couldn't stand it.

"If neither of you is going to talk, you're going to force me to fill this gap, you know. I can do the not-talking with Zoë, but not if we have an audience, if you get my meaning."

His captain and his wife gazed at him uncomprehendingly.

Wash smiled heartily. "Mal. Mal. Zoë and I were talking . . ." He looked at her with a look that asked her permission to continue. She nodded once. "We were talking, and we have a proposition for you."

Mal looked from one to the other. "_Zhēn qìsi rén_. Why do I get the feeling that I'm about to hear something horrifying?"

"It's just this, Mal. We've been talking for a long time about wanting to start a family someday soon—not right away, but soon.

"And, anyway, we know you're trying to find somebody to keep Lily, to give her a good home and to protect her. And, well . . . we think we could do both. We'd like to take her in and give her a home. We're better guardians than just about anybody else you could find, and it would get us on our own track that much sooner."

Mal listened with growing alarm. He turned to Zoë. "Has he finally lost his mind?"

Her eyes were warm with sympathy. "I think he lost it a long time ago, sir. But we agreed on this. We'll take her in, if you'll give her to us."

Mal stood up. "And lose my pilot and my second-in-command at the same time? The rest of us would be dead within a week." He turned to leave.

Zoë put a hand on his arm. "Mal. We really mean this. We don't want to leave you in the lurch, but we'd like to take her, if you decide you want that to happen. It's your decision."

"Damned right it's my decision. I'm still captain of this gorram ship."

"Mal, we didn't mean to make it sound like that was ever in question," Wash assured him.

Mal smiled wryly. "Yeah, I'm captain. That's a comfort. If only making the decisions meant that I actually have control over what happens."

He hobbled out the hatch leading to the shuttles and the cargo bay.

A few moments later, he hovered outside the entrance to Inara's shuttle. He knocked politely at the hatch and stood waiting, his face schooled to patience. After a minute, he gathered that she was busy or not in. 

With a shrug, he opened the hatch and walked in. Inara wasn't there. He settled himself on her red couch and waited.

As he had expected, it wasn't long before she appeared. Her eyes showed surprise for a moment when she first saw him, but the look was quickly replaced by her habitual temper.

"I thought we agreed that this shuttle was private, captain," she said.

"We did, and I apologize for intruding," he replied. "I wanted to thank you for rescuing me earlier, and I was hoping you wouldn't mind if I hid out here for a while."

She smiled at him. "You're not afraid of a band of armed men, but you'll hide from a ten-year-old girl?"

"I know how to handle armed men. Little girls are beyond my experience."

Inara sat down on the couch facing him. "You do fine with girls of all ages. They trust you instinctively."

"Can't think why they would. But, see, that's the problem. Right now, I would rather that particular little girl ran screaming from the room every time I entered it. It would make this whole thing easier."

"You haven't decided what you're going to do?"

Mal shook his head. "I've been presented with a couple of options, neither of which I can say I'm taken with. One involves the preacher and his order. The other costs me my first mate and my pilot."

"Wash and Zoë would take her?"

"They seem eager. I've been hoping that if nobody mentioned children they might forget their intent to settle down and have some one day. I ain't ready to contemplate this line of work without Zoë to watch my back."

Inara leaned forward and put her hand on Mal's knee. He eyed it suspiciously. "Mal—I thought of another option, one that you probably won't want to hear either."

He looked into her eyes. "OK. May as well get it over with."

"I would be willing to call in a few favors and see that she gets sponsored at the Companions Guild on Sihnon."

He held her eyes a moment longer and then looked away with a pained laugh. "This just gets better. Inara, I don't like the fact that _you're_ a whore—how could I ever turn that little girl into one? It would surely prove that her trust in me is misplaced."

"It's not such a bad life, Mal," she objected, inching a little closer to him. "The Guild is powerful, and it would give her a respectable profession. She'd have choices, and she'd be protected. Besides, who would ever expect you to hide her in the midst of the whores you so despise?"

"I don't despise the whores," he protested. "I mean—don't ever expect me to like your line of work. But you know damned well that doesn't make me disrespect you. Hell, Inara—I respected Nandi, too."

She glanced away a moment. "Mal, I know. But my point is still valid. It would be a perfect hiding place for her. And you'd be giving her the skills she might need to survive. Think about how effective Saffron is with her Guild training: she manipulates every man she meets. For a woman, that's far better than knowing how to fight." She touched his face. "Think how strong Nandi was. Someday Lily may need such strength."

Mal was silent, considering what she'd said. Finally, he pulled her hand down and placed it back in her lap. He held it there with his own hand. "Let's say I do this. What happens then? Is that your cue to make good on your threat and leave?"

She shook her head. "No, Mal. If she really is in some danger, then I can't be seen with her. The trail would be too easy to follow. I would leave her with a trusted friend who would do the actual sponsoring. I would stay here, for a while at least."

"Well, Masters gave me a hefty sum for placing the girl. Whatever money you might need to grease the skid—"

"I don't want money, Mal. Just let me do this for you." She turned her hands so that she was clasping his hand in both of hers.

He studied her face, looking for some underlying motive to her offer—hoping for one. As usual, he thought he detected one, but he didn't trust his own perceptions. He rose and walked to the shuttle door. He paused there and turned back to her. "What you say makes sense, Inara. Leastways, it does here. Course, everything you say to me in here makes sense at the time. Give me some time to think about it on my own, away from that companion training I'm so susceptible to."

She nodded. "If you decide to do this, Mal, it might be best to keep if from the others. The closer the secret is held, the safer she'll be."

"If I decide to do this, I couldn't bring myself to tell the others." He turned away and walked out onto the catwalk.

Below, a race was being run. River clung to Jayne's back and urged him on with frantic slaps to his buttocks. Kaylee, with Lily bouncing behind her, trailed just behind and hit the back of Jayne's knees in an attempt to bring him down. Gales of laughter from all four echoed up to the captain.

Jayne stared at the stack of money on the table before him. He glanced at the others, most with small stacks of cash before them, and then looked up at the captain with a frown. "This money don't seem right, Mal," he protested.

"It's your usual percentage, Jayne," the captain assured him curtly.

"It ain't that. It just don't seem right to get paid for this job."

The others stared at him in disbelief.

Wash turned to the doctor. "Is this what going mad feels like, Billy?"

Simon nodded. "I recognize the feeling. I just never thought it would happen this way."

"Jayne's right, Cap'n," Kaylee interjected. "This money shoulda gone with Lily."

"She's taken care of," Mal said. "And we missed a chance for a cargo job in order to accept this one. Only fair that crew get paid."

"Maybe the crew would feel more comfortable if they knew what had happened to her," Book pointed out.

Mal shook his head. "I didn't sell her into slavery or send her down a river in a basket. She's in a safe place—a good place. Leave it at that."

Wash threw an anguished look towards Zoë. She met his eyes briefly and then returned her silent gaze to the captain.

Later, she cornered Mal on the stairwell leading down past the infirmary. "We need a little talk, sir," she said in a calm, mutinous tone.

Mal sighed. "I reckon we do." He opened his mouth to speak and then stopped, unsure what to say.

"Wash and I did a lot of soul searching before we came up with that offer, sir. I happen to think that we deserve a little more consideration than 'leave it at that.'"

"You're not wrong." He looked at her blankly while he gathered his thoughts. "Look, I happen to think that you and Wash are gonna make great parents some day, but I gotta be honest: I am dreading the day that you decide to leave _Serenity_ and set up housekeeping. I've been expecting to have as much as a nine-month warning for that."

"If there hadn't been some nameless menace looking for the girl, would it have been so wrong to've raised her here, sir?"

"With the Alliance or bounty hunters on our tracks most of the time?"

"Any worse than a frontier home with outlaws and reavers? At least _Serenity_ can run away. And there's no shortage of family on board."

"Are you sayin' that you and Wash want to raise a family _here_?"

"Wash thinks it's insane, sir. It's my thought."

Mal blinked in surprise and shook his head. "If it comes to that, I won't force you to leave. And I can't promise that I won't beg you to stay. We've dealt with worse situations—we'll deal with that one."

Bonfires raged across the valley and crews of weary Independents heaved corpses onto the flames. Around them, crows dove upon the nameless bodies and fought over bloody tidbits, their raucous screams carrying on the hot wind. 

Mal sat on a rocky outcropping, squinting against the smoke, and watched as River picked her way slowly along the creek bed that led past his vantage point. She was naked again.

"You know, I probably shouldn't complain, seein' as how you've been runnin' away from me all day, but I generally expect to be alone when I come here," he remarked when she was close.

She stopped and looked up at him. "Can you be sure you're not?" she asked.

He smiled a little. "I can't offer empirical proof, if that's what you're asking. But I'm fair sure you're not my own personal addition to this dream. And I still can't figure why you won't wear clothes."

She glanced down. "I keep forgetting. This is how you remember me best—how you first saw me."

"When I thought the Doctor was trading in slaves."

"I woke up to your anger. You were in a very dangerous mood."

"I get that way sometimes."

She clambered up the rocks and sat beside him, her knees pulled up to her chin. Mal turned his head enough to regard her from the corner of his eye. "I'd've thought you've had enough of being in my head for a while."

She watched a crow pluck an eyeball from a corpse. "I wanted to make sure this place hadn't changed." She rolled her head so she could see his face. "To make sure I hadn't pushed you out."

He surveyed the slaughter critically. "Looks pretty much the same." He turned to meet her gaze. "Hope you don't take this wrong, but you seem less crazy here."

She smiled at him lazily. "I feel safe here."

He cast a wry glance over the deadly landscape. "Okay, I take back what I just said."

She shrugged. "It's true." She turned her head slowly, taking in the whole scene, until her attention was arrested by a small figure picking its way forlornly through the corpses. Mal didn't have to look—he knew it was Lily.

"I sorely wanted to give her a family, a proper childhood. I didn't exactly manage that," he confessed.

"I had a family," River stated. "I had a happy childhood." She paused. "But it was a lie."

"You have a brother who gave up his world for you. That's a rare thing."

"It is. Almost as rare as a thieving pirate who would risk himself and his crew in order to hide a fugitive girl from the Alliance."

"_Pirate_ might be a little strong," Mal protested.

"You picked a good hiding place," she said.

"You know, just because you can read my mind doesn't give you the right to go digging in to all my secrets," he complained.

"You've been chewing at it all day, and all night. Screaming loud enough to make my ears bleed."

He picked up a stone and lobbed it at a crow. It sidestepped and continued its grisly meal. "I hope I picked it for the right reasons," he admitted. 

"Inara would've stayed anyway."

"Yeah, well . . . maybe she shouldn't."

Mal watched the soldiers staggering under the load of corpses as they flung them into the fires. One figure paused to wipe his brow and Mal felt a muffled cry of rage echo up from his belly and beat against his throat when he recognized the face of the slave boy he'd seen being led away on Midgard. Their eyes met across the piles of rotting flesh, and Mal recognized the hopelessness, the resignation, in that gaze.

"It's gettin' mighty crowded here in the valley," he observed.

* * *

_zhēn qìsi rén_ damn it  


* * *

Author's Note: Once again, I've drawn on some of my favorite artists for River's wanderings. Special thanks to Sting, Ian Anderson, and Thomas Babington Macauley. 


End file.
